


With This Ring

by oviparous



Series: I Thee Wed [2]
Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Falling In Love, Friendship, M/M, Marriage, Romance, Wedding Fluff, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 07:45:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12316800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oviparous/pseuds/oviparous
Summary: It's not easy finding his way to Nino's level-up, but Aiba gets there in the end.





	With This Ring

He wasn’t sure he deserved him, because he was wonderful and clever and so, so gifted.

Aiba had felt this the first time he watched Nino play the piano. He’d inadvertently invited himself over to Nino's place—Nino had asked if Aiba could listen to a tune for him and give him his thoughts, and Aiba immediately assumed Nino was meaning to play for him, live-in-person.

“No,” Nino had laughed, “I meant over the phone.”

Aiba had been embarrassed, but he’d then gathered his courage and suggested: “Why don’t I go over?”

It wasn’t so much the music itself than it was _Nino’s music_ that he was attracted to, and watching Nino play, knowing that Nino had imagined and woven together every note—Aiba could only struggle to keep up, and marvel, and have his breath taken away.

Nino had tons of acquaintances in the music industry, but he’d picked Aiba, a complete layman, to listen to the song instead. It was no wonder Aiba had been nervous when he was asked for an honest opinion, since all his feelings about the piece were purely intuitive, ungrounded in musical theory. But he shouldn’t have worried; Nino was able to employ Aiba’s artless comments and translate it into a musical language that Aiba actually understood—a passage that hadn’t sounded right to him before was suddenly better, the measure that had been awkward to sing was suddenly smoother.

There was something about Nino that Aiba fell in love with that day. It could’ve been Nino’s sheer talent; or his genuine patience when listening to Aiba talk about the music; or the way he’d trusted Aiba, _depended_ on him, even, to help make crucial changes to his work, to improve what he’d created. Aiba could see how Nino was involving him in the parts of his life that he could’ve been easily excluded from. They were very different people, but Nino was trying to work around that, and it touched Aiba deeply.

“I feel chosen, somehow,” Aiba had told Nino months later, on an alarmingly cold November’s morning, when they were walking to the car rental agency to pick up the Nissan they were going to drive around Chiba with.

“Chosen? For what?” asked Nino, cupping his gloved hands over his mouth and nose to keep them warm.

“Not ‘for what’. ‘By who’.”

“Don’t get it.”

“I’ve been chosen. By you.”

Nino had stopped right there in the street, and Aiba would never forget the look Nino had given him, pure fondness and diffidence and surprise.

It wasn’t just Nino choosing to love Aiba; or to let him into his life, professional or personal; it was Nino choosing Aiba over all the potential someones and somethings that meant so much to him. It was Nino giving him his time, spending the long weekend with him in Chiba despite his distaste for travel. It was Nino agreeing to meet his family at the end of the trip. It was Nino finding the courage to be committed to him despite all of their insecurities. Nino kept choosing Aiba, over and over again—Aiba didn’t ever want to discount that. He wanted to put this sentiment into words, into actions, so he could always be tangibly reminded that he should never take Nino for granted.

There were a couple of times Nino had gotten the short end of the stick with Aiba’s efforts, which had been overeager, on hindsight. There was the time, on that very trip to Chiba, when they’d been at karaoke with Aiba’s family and Aiba had selected every song in the database that had Nino’s name in the credits. Aiba didn’t know any of the 10 songs, and neither did his family, but they all kept cheering for Nino to sing, and Nino was too polite to refuse. He acted like he was flattered and pleased, but by the fourth song Nino’s voice was noticeably worn and his smile had gone taut; Aiba discreetly inserted more mainstream selections into the queue, hoping to be spared Nino’s wrath.

Nino forgave him readily enough—and he hadn’t been angry, just mildly irritated—but not too long after that Aiba seriously embarrassed Nino by sending him some not-safe-for-work photos of themselves right smack in the middle of the work day. They’d had some fun with a remote control and one of Aiba’s DSLRs the previous night, and Aiba had finished processing the photos over lunch and was anxious to let Nino see his handiwork. Nino had an arguably bad habit of using his phone for personal stuff during working hours, and according to him, the people on his left and right at his meeting had let out gasps of horror when he’d opened the chat and the thumbnails, though small, previewed parts of his anatomy he never wanted his colleagues to see. He’d swiftly flipped his phone over and pretended everything was fine, but he’d called Aiba later from the privacy of his home and employed a few choice words about the business of waiting, and putting their porny photos into password-protected folders.

But these were the things that made Aiba feel safe. They were sometimes petty grievances, sometimes a little more, but it comforted Aiba to know that they didn’t only have sunshine and rainbows. It made what they had real, and Aiba thought it prepared them for worse storms that would inevitably come their way. There was a sense of satisfaction and definitely a lot of pride whenever he and Nino got out of a disagreement knowing more about themselves and each other, although it sometimes sucked during, when they were arguing and feeling bitter; yet Nino was more skilled than most people when it came to communication, and he never failed to impress Aiba when he would have them both take a step back and look at the big picture to find out what had gone wrong. Aiba liked that Nino was always collected, always thinking. It helped him be more collected and thoughtful as well.

Nino made him a better person. Nino gave him more reason to live. He hadn’t been sure that he was good enough for Nino, but he’d wanted to let Nino know that even though he was still not ready for marriage, he’d definitely been thinking about the possibility of it.

“I’m thinking of moving,” Aiba had announced one night while he was at Nino’s, measuring every word.

Nino looked up from his piano. “Why, and where to?”

Aiba shifted in his place on the sofa. “You’re moving out of this place in March, and I was thinking of moving with you. My housing contract expires in April anyway. I can choose not to renew it.”

Nino stared. “Moving with me as in moving house at the same time, or moving _in_ with me?”

“It’d be both, wouldn’t it?” The logic was sound to Aiba. “I mean, if I move in with you I’d have to move house the same time you do.”

Nino continued staring, waiting for Aiba to spell it out.

“I meant moving in with you,” said Aiba flatly.

“Are you serious?” Nino swung his legs over his chair so he was facing Aiba.

Aiba couldn’t quite read his thoughts; Nino appeared unsure, but a hint of excitement lingered in his voice.

“I know it’ll come with its own set of challenges, but I want to try.”

Nino left the piano, and collapsed beside Aiba on the sofa. “We’ve been together five months. We live twenty minutes away from each other, faster if we bike or take a bus. Can you imagine living even closer than that, for an even longer time?”

“Yes,” Aiba found himself saying, completely unhesitant.

Nino was slumped against the cushions, chin tucked close to his chest. He peered up at Aiba, exhaling audibly through his nose.

“Okay.”

And thus they'd spent the rest of January looking for apartments, finally deciding on a 2LDK in the same neighbourhood. It had a large living area and a modestly-sized guest room that Nino was going to turn into a studio for his work, and Aiba liked the way the windows let in natural light. They moved several weeks later, with some help from Sho and Ohno, who were returning a favour. There was no official housewarming, but over Jun’s spring break they did host a temaki party where Jun’s kids had a lot of fun making their own hand rolls. Aiba had planned to cook, but Nino reminded him he was the son of two semi-retired Japanese chefs; the Ninomiyas drove down to the apartment with sushi rice and seaweed, an assortment of raw and cooked fish, sliced vegetables, and some very tasty omelette. It was Aiba’s first time meeting Nino’s parents, and he tried his best not to be nervous as Nino introduced him, though he still broke a sweat and had to wipe his palms on his jeans when Nino’s mother reached out to clasp his hands in hers, telling him, in what seemed like gratitude, about how he was the first boyfriend Nino ever spoke to his parents about. Nino kept a straight face throughout the entire encounter, but as he sent his parents out the door he kept singing Aiba’s praises, which made Aiba want to steal him away and kiss him. (He eventually got to do that in the entryway, right after the parents left.)

Over dinner that evening, Soo-jung had suddenly noticed that Aiba and Nino didn’t use their first names with each other. She asked if it was something they only did in private; they said no, and admitted they’d never really thought about it: ‘Nino’ and ‘Aiba-kun’ were just fine. When they asked if it was important for the relationship, the married couples took a while to reply.

“Calling him by name makes him feel closer,” said Ohno, pointing to Sho.

“Nicknames are nice too,” added Jun, “since you use them exclusively for each other.”

A smile tugged at Nino’s lips. “What do you call Nee-chan?”

“Don’t tell him,” interrupted Soo-jung, but Dan was kind of a big mouth and he was right there at the table, and he’d said loudly:

“Papa calls Mama ‘Crystal’!”

“An English name?” asked Aiba, raising his eyebrows at Soo-jung. “Is that why all your children have English-sounding names?”

“No, ‘Soo-jung’ means ‘crystal’ in Korean,” said Sho knowledgeably. He turned to Jun. “Very original.”

Jun grinned. “Are you guys really just ‘Satoshi’ and ‘Sho’?”

“We tried nicknames,” said Sho, putting up a hand, “but they weren’t for us.”

“And we’re never going to tell you what they were,” Ohno piped up, anticipating the question and making everyone laugh.

Nino’s eyes met Aiba’s.

“Masaki,” started Nino with a drawl, as he pointed to the near-empty bowl in the middle of the table, “could you get us more rice?”

“Sure, Kazunari,” said Aiba in an affected manner, before getting up from his seat.

There was a beat of silence.

“That was weird.” Ohno laughed.

“ _So_ weird,” said Jun.

“Even his mum doesn’t call him ‘Kazunari’,” Sho informed Aiba.

They decided, by way of popular vote, that ‘Aiba-kun’ and ‘Nino’ sounded the most natural, but when the guests had left and the last of the dishes were cleared, the topic was brought up again.

“My dad’s also a ‘Nino’, and so is my sister.” Nino was leaning against the kitchen counter, a glass of water in his hand. He’d had quite a few beers and was attempting to hydrate. “It’s so generic for a name like ‘Ninomiya’; I understand why Nee-chan wondered why we aren’t trying to be more exclusive.”

Aiba motioned for Nino to pass him the glass, and took a sip. “Were you on first-name basis with any of your exes?”

Nino broke into a grin. “You’re going there?”

“You know what Emil called me, after all.”

“True.” Nino shrugged, nodding to agree. “Well, I think at some point I let them call me ‘Kazu’.”

“Hm.” Aiba refilled the glass at the tap. “I see.”

Nino crossed his arms in front of his chest, smiling. “You don’t have to call me something else other than ‘Nino’ for us to be exclusive, though. We already are.”

“I know that, but I kind of like the idea of you calling me something other than ‘Aiba-kun’. My brother’s an ‘Aiba-kun’ too. Like you said, generic.” Aiba handed the water over to Nino. “At least ‘Nino’ sounds like a nickname; ‘Aiba-kun’ could be, like, some random guy from work.”

Nino laughed. “Would you like me to call you ‘Masaki’, then?”

Aiba wrinkled his nose. “I was cringing inside when you called me that during dinner. Not because of Emil, don’t get the wrong idea—it just didn’t fit, somehow.”

Nino held Aiba’s gaze for a moment. “How about ‘Maa-kun’?”

It was funny how moments like these constantly snuck up on Aiba; he’d be talking to Nino about something, when Nino would deliver these _lines_ that’d come out of left field to hit him straight in the heart.

“Maa-kun?” Nino waved. “You there?”

Aiba grinned. _Maa-kun._ It was powerfully simple, and the way Nino said it was adorable to no end.

Aiba took the glass of water out of Nino’s hands and placed it by the sink. He put his arms on either side of Nino, propping himself up against the counter, crowding Nino into the space.

“Only when our friends aren’t around.” Aiba inched closer, grazing his nose with Nino’s, hoping to tease him into a kiss. “Okay?”

Nino chuckled. “Why? You're shy?”

“Yeah.” Aiba paused. “Plus it’s kind of thrilling to have secret names. It’s like we’re spies.”

Nino laughed before tilting his head, leaning forward to place his mouth by Aiba’s ear. “Kazu-kun wants to know if Maa-kun wishes to continue his espionage in the bedroom?”

From then on, they'd often refer to sex as ‘espionage’, and it was always hilarious.

There were other things Nino did which surprised Aiba—sweet, thoughtful, affectionate things that Aiba knew Nino had to be in very specific moods for, and while they weren’t frequent, they always touched him to a point where he felt like crying.

It’d been one of those times that Aiba had to travel. He was primarily an architectural photographer, and was constantly amazed at how many people had heard of him because of how he photographed buildings, and the inside of buildings. Most of his work was local—the furthest he’d been in the past year was Malaysia, and that had been a job for a client based in Tokyo—but he’d scored a contract with the ad agency that was doing the promotional materials for Japan Airlines, and they’d sent him to various parts of the country every quarter or so.

He’d returned home after being away for a week in Hokkaido and Tohoku, more tired from the post-processing he had to work on in the hotel than from the shoot itself. It’d been one in the afternoon and Nino had said he’d be home working, so there was that to look forward to.

“I’m home,” called Aiba, swinging the door open and stepping into the apartment. He stopped when he smelt—and heard—something frying in the kitchen. Nino didn’t cook, so Aiba’s first thought was of his (or Nino’s!) parents springing a surprise visit.

Leaving his suitcase in the entryway, Aiba made a beeline for the kitchen, and he slowed when he saw Nino standing at the stove, expertly tossing vegetables in a frying pan.

“Hi,” said Nino, glancing at Aiba. “I hope you’re hungry.”

Aiba didn’t move from his spot. “You’re _cooking._ ”

“Why, that’s very observant of you.” Nino added what looked like pork liver into the pan, then doused the ingredients with a sauce he’d gotten ready in a bowl.

“When did you learn how to cook?”

“I didn’t have to learn.” Nino scoffed. “It’s in my DNA.”

“This is a Chinese dish. If we go with your DNA logic, you should be making Japanese food.”

Nino smirked. “Chawanmushi’s in the fridge.”

“…Is everything okay? Are you going through some sort of existential crisis?”

Nino burst out laughing. “I’m just cooking, it’s no big deal.”

“It _is_ a big deal, you normally just wait to be fed!” Aiba gawked at the pork liver sauté. “This is some high level stuff for a novice; how are you managing this?”

Nino turned off the stove and motioned for Aiba to hand him the plate that was between them. “I watched a YouTube tutorial a few times.” Nino tipped the meat and vegetables onto the plate before scraping the rest of the sauce out with the spatula. “And I practised.”

“While I was away?”

“Yeah.” Nino put the now-empty frying pan back onto the stove, grinning as he took in Aiba’s expression. He took the plate and held it out to Aiba. “Ta-da—pork liver with chives. It’s all yours; I’m quite sick of it already.”

Aiba took the plate wordlessly, still reeling from the surreality of seeing Nino cook his favourite food with such ease.

“Thanks,” he finally managed to say. “It smells delicious.”

Nino untied his apron, still grinning. “Welcome home.”

That same day, Aiba had been woken from his nap to Nino touching him, in one of his moods, whining to be made love to. He’d already prepped himself, and Aiba found that highly arousing—Nino going the extra mile for sex was rare; he usually didn’t plan so far ahead.

So Aiba obliged, and it was intimate and romantic and enjoyable as always, and when Nino saw that he was biting his lip, struggling to stay on the edge, he took Aiba’s face in his hands and whispered, very tenderly:

“I love you, Aiba Masaki.”

Aiba lost all purchase, uttering a shuddering gasp as he came with one final push.

Afterwards, as they lay side by side in bed, collecting their senses, Aiba realised it’d been the first time Nino had ever explicitly told him he loved him. Nino had always been rather offhand with his ‘love-yous’, but Aiba hardly minded because Nino was affectionate by nature, and though he didn’t use the exact words it was plain to Aiba how Nino felt.

“Come here,” said Aiba, scooping Nino into a one-armed hug. Nino pressed his cheek against Aiba’s shoulder, then turned onto his side to tangle their legs together.

“Before I moved in with you, your absences weren’t so pronounced,” said Nino, absentmindedly stroking Aiba's forearm. “It used to be like, ‘oh, he’s out of town, I’m gonna play some games until our next date’. Now it’s like… I come home, and it’s glaringly obvious that you’re not there. You know what I mean?”

Aiba nodded. “If it makes you feel better, from now on I’ll only take jobs that don’t require me to travel.”

“No, don’t do that. I know what you’re offering, but I don’t want you to do that.”

They held each other in silence.

Aiba knew what Nino was getting at; they’d agreed on how their habits shouldn’t have to be drastically altered even though they were a large part of each other’s lives now. Their run-ins so far had revolved around things like the ‘correct’ way of folding shirts and preferred brands of detergent; but they'd come to a compromise fairly quickly for those issues, which had been far too trivial to dwell on for long.

“I want to choose you,” said Aiba bravely. “Let me choose you.”

“Not now.” Nino raised his eyes to meet Aiba’s. “We’re just living together; we’re not married. I’d say yes if we were, but we aren’t.”

Aiba sighed. Nino was right. This was another thing they’d agreed on—where the lines had to be drawn. It was like the no-touching rule all over again, and while Aiba had welcomed it at first, it was now getting irksome, and he didn’t really know what to do to soothe the burn Nino’s words had just inflicted.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” continued Nino, “I’m really satisfied with where we are right now. I’m happy.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Good.”

Nino had then gotten up to shower, and Aiba had stayed in bed, facing the ceiling, contemplating his frustration. He wondered how he could make Nino understand that he was ready for this, ready to make the big decisions that would impact his income and lifestyle and prospects, when suddenly it struck him.

He had to propose to Nino.

***

“Crap, I think I left the rings at home,” said Aiba, fumbling in his pockets.

Nino gaped. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I’m not.” Aiba stared at Nino. “Shit.”

“Jun-kun will _kill_ you. He’s put a lot of effort into this.”

“What should I do?” moaned Aiba. He checked his phone for the time. “I don’t think there’s time to go back to Tokyo.”

“Oh, God. Hang on, let me see if Sho-chan has gotten on the train, maybe he could drop by our place.” Nino reached into his pocket, presumably to pull out his phone, but he produced their ring box instead.

Aiba froze.

Nino grinned before giving a wicked laugh.

“You prick,” Aiba said in a strangled voice. “You’ll be the death of me someday, you know that?”

“Which actually gives rise to several conflicting feelings, seeing how I’m currently the sole beneficiary to your life insurance.”

“...Oh God, what have I done?”

“No turning back now, Aiba-Ninomiya-shi,” Nino sang as he opened the ring box, “we’ve signed the—”

It was Nino’s turn to freeze; the rings weren’t there.

“Oh, God,” gasped Nino, blanching, “where are our rings?”

Aiba swallowed. “Don’t panic, Kazu-chan. You’ll make me panic, and we both know that’s not a good thing.”

“All right," said Nino, inhaling deeply, "when did you last see the rings?”

Aiba thought hard. “Last week, when I tried mine on to make sure it still fit. When did _you_ last see them?”

“Huh.” Nino frowned. “My sister came over yesterday and I showed them to her.” He looked at Aiba. “But how could they have gotten out of the box?”

“...Your sister stole them?”

“Don’t be an idiot.”

Aiba fretted. “Did she want to see the inscriptions? You'd have to take them out to see the inscriptions.”

Nino slapped his hand against his forehead. “She did. And she sent pictures of them to her boyfriend, that’s it. We put them on the dining table, and…” Nino pursed his lips, his gaze focusing as he tried to remember.

“And?”

“I don’t remember,” said Nino lamely. He gripped the edge of the armrests and looked up at the LED panel which indicated their location. Their bus had already entered Yamanashi, and they were 45 minutes away from the wedding resort.

Nino took a deep breath. “They have to be at home. Let me call Sho-chan and see where he is. He’s the only one I’ve authorised to unlock our door.”

Nino dialled Sho. Aiba waited, twiddling his thumbs nervously.

“Hey Sho-chan, there’s been a bit of a problem with the rings, and long story short I think they’re at home.”

Aiba could hear Sho screeching.

“We’re on the bus. Yes, I know it’s eight hours before the ceremony.” Nino paused. “No, he doesn’t have them. Well, he’d left the ring box on the kitchen counter this morning and I knew he was going to forget it so I hid it in my pocket to prank him, and just a minute ago he realised he didn’t have it; I admitted it was with me, and that’s how we found out the rings aren’t in the box.”

Aiba couldn’t hear what Sho was saying, but by the way Nino was groaning it meant Sho had pre-empted Nino’s request and said that it was too late, he was already on the way to Yamanashi.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll figure it out with Aiba-kun. Yeah, thanks. See you later.”

Nino hung up, and gave Aiba the sorriest look he'd ever seen Nino wear.

“I should have checked if the rings were in the box, so this is on me. You go ahead to the resort, say hi to everyone, explain the situation. I’ll probably have to miss rehearsal, but the express train back to Tokyo only takes two hours so I don’t think I’ll be late for the ceremony.”

“You'd better not be, my parents would die of embarrassment if this wedding goes awry as well.”

Nino slumped against his seat, rubbing his forehead with his fingers as he sighed. “Sorry, Maa-kun.”

Aiba shook his head, and he reached past his collar to pull out the chain that was looped through their wedding rings.

It took a moment before Nino could speak.

“You _bastard_ ,” he breathed.

Aiba pinched his lips between his teeth, trying not to laugh, but when Nino swatted him on the head he broke into a series of giggles and couldn’t stop.

“You left them under a sheet of music and the electricity bill, what were you thinking?” gasped Aiba, wiping tears from his eyes. “It was the perfect chance.”

“You know, when I first met you I thought you were this _angel_ , but look what you’ve become,” said Nino in disdain. “So devious.”

“I learn from the best, Kazu-chan.”

“God, I’d better call Sho-chan again to tell him not to freak out or call Jun-kun or whatever,” muttered Nino, picking up his phone again.

“No need, they’re in on this.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Sho-chan has our key, so I knew you'd call him, and I was worried Matsujun would remind you to remind me about the rings, so I texted him last night to tell him I was pranking you. He wanted me to record it all on video but I wasn’t confident of pulling it off, so he arranged for somebody else.”

The solo passenger sitting in the row in front rose up on his knees, holding his phone steady on a monopod, directing the camera toward them. He had on a mask and a baseball cap, but by the way Nino’s jaw dropped, Aiba knew Nino had recognised those eyes.

“Oh my God, Oh-chan! Have you been on this bus the entire time?”

“I’m a freaking ninja,” said Ohno, grinning behind his mask. "Best in the land."

“You guys are nuts,” said Nino decidedly. “Completely insane.”

“We’ve been at the receiving end of your pranks long enough, Nino,” said Ohno. “We’re lucky your husband is a brilliant man with the best ideas for payback.”

Nino gave a mirthless laugh. “Is this what I’ve signed up for? Fifty years of regret?”

Aiba wiped his hand down Nino’s face in a bid to silence him. “So rude!”

“Okay guys—I think it’s time you kissed and made up,” said Ohno. “Hurry, my arm's getting tired.”

Aiba struggled to pull Nino closer, Nino swatting and batting at him the whole way, and messily planted a kiss on Nino’s cheek.

Ohno, satisfied, directed the camera to himself. “That’s all, folks. Hope that was enough footage for you, Matsujun.”

***

They’d handed the rings to Jun, who promised to ready them for the ceremony, and then it was a whirlwind of wedding-related activity: changing into relevant outfits, getting their hair styled, taking pre-ceremony pictures, taking pictures with their families, having lunch, getting briefed on the flow of events, rehearsing the march-in, being treated to a shampoo session that included a head and shoulder massage (Jun really thought of everything), and getting their hair styled again for the ceremony itself.

Aiba had liked the idea of a proper wedding. He couldn’t really put a finger on why, but Nino had had a theory.

“Emil sabotaged you the first time. It’s that simple.”

Aiba had waved Nino’s comment away. “I’m not keen on a wedding just because I didn’t get to have it.”

“It’s not that,” said Nino. “You have this thing—you obsess over the idea of a what-if. You’re afraid of regret, especially since you’ve tasted it before. You’re thinking that if we don’t have a ceremony, it’s fine, but what if having a ceremony is better? You’d miss that chance of a lifetime.”

Aiba was amazed. “That actually sounds about right. Especially since," he patted Nino's knee, "I'm marrying this magical creature."

"Cheesy." Nino had given him a smug grin. “Let’s have a ceremony.”

The wedding was attended by both sets of parents, siblings and their families, and a handful of friends and colleagues. Kazama was on photographer duty, and he’d roped in an ex-colleague of his to help out, a lady named Haru whose work Aiba had liked immediately. Jun had in-laws living in Yamanashi, and they worked at a resort popular for weddings, so he used his connections to get Nino and Aiba a discount for the venue, and offered to play liaison with the resort staff, essentially becoming their wedding planner.

Aiba had never expected that Nino would bring him Jun, one of the nicest people he’d ever had the good fortune to meet. He was one of Nino’s oldest friends and possibly his wisest counsel, and Aiba had a feeling Jun had been the driving force behind Nino’s decision to start dating Aiba in the first place. He felt like he owed a lot to Jun, and was determined to love him and his family as much as Nino did.

Sho, as Nino’s other best friend, had come as a bit of a surprise, mainly because Aiba hadn’t expected to become this close to him. He was Ohno’s husband, yes, but Aiba had thought Ohno would get Sho on his two-man boat and sort of drift away, what with Ohno’s tendency to keep to himself. (Sho obviously had different plans for the way they functioned as a couple, and honestly Aiba was shocked at how Ohno was willing to go with all of Sho’s ideas, because Ohno could be incredibly set in his ways. Aiba suspected there was a lot happening in the relationship that no one else was privy to—that sort of secrecy had ‘Ohno Satoshi’ written all over it—but there had to be a lot of love, otherwise they would have split up a long time ago, given how different they were.) Sho was the classic big brother type, and he doted on Nino almost indulgently sometimes, a sentiment that was now extended to Aiba. Just the other day Sho had taken pictures of the wall-to-wall Japan Airlines ads in the Shibuya Station underpass that featured photos of Nagoya Castle and sent them to Aiba with the caption: _This is beautiful, you worked hard_. The photo wasn’t credited, and Aiba had wondered how Sho had known he was the photographer; Nino said they couldn’t put it past Sho to run extensive searches on the internet to find out about his friends’ professional lives. He was just _that_ proud of their successes.

Sho was also master-of-ceremony of the banquet portion of their wedding, and he stepped up to the mic halfway through the second course to announce a surprise performance. Aiba hadn’t seen this coming, and when he saw the piano being wheeled in he suddenly knew Nino had been up to something.

Nino just grinned at him and strode to the centre of the hall. 

“My husband is a photographer, but many of you don’t know he can play quite a few musical instruments, one of them being the blues harp,” said Nino, taking a harmonica out of his pocket. “I thought I’d write a song for it.” Nino played a quick scale, shooting Aiba an impish look. “I’m not as good as you on this, Maa-kun, but I hope you like it.”

Aiba broke into a cheek-aching smile when Jun sat himself at the piano and Sho appeared out of a backroom holding a clarinet. Ohno had a mic in his hand, and he cleared his throat into it to test its volume.

Nino checked that his band was ready, and spoke to the audience once more.

“This song is called ‘Climbing Stairs’. Enjoy.”

Aiba laughed at the title; he knew exactly what Nino was referring to.

The song was a quirky little pop ballad, especially so with such an eclectic ensemble, and it was pretty much non-fiction: Ohno sang about ‘mustering up the courage to run up the stairs to ask out the guy currently riding the elevator’, making Aiba cover his face in embarrassment; there were also lyrics about holding hands in pitch black spaces, and funny fights and promises; lyrics about broken hearts and mended souls, about running down flights of stairs to meet and to be, to have and hold. Aiba was crying at the end of it, and he knew why Nino had chosen to play the harmonica instead of sing—Nino didn’t want to cry himself.

Aiba had no surprises for Nino, but he thought it fitting that Nino was the centre of attraction that evening—Nino was his centre, and he liked how everybody could catch a glimpse of how he felt every second of every day.

Right before the banquet ended, the guests were treated to an edited version of the video Ohno had filmed in the bus earlier. It was the right way to say goodbye to everyone, because as the guests left the hall they complimented the couple about how they’d never attended a wedding quite like Aiba and Nino’s, nor had they ever laughed quite as much; it was almost entertainment, they said, with a rom-com flair. Nino winked at Jun when he heard this, and Jun looked very pleased.

They were all driving back to Tokyo in different cars, and Nino’s parents and sister left first, carrying a portion of the gifts, which they were going to drop off at Aiba and Nino’s apartment. There were more gifts to be loaded into Aiba’s brother’s car, and Jun was making sure all of them had a proper label. Sho and Ohno were responsible for sending the couple back to their apartment (Sho had driven up; his plans to take the train had been a lie as part of Aiba’s prank), so they hung around, playing with Jun’s kids as they expended the last of their energy, allowing Soo-jung a chat with her sister, whose husband was the one working for the resort.

When Jun was done, the five men gathered, Soo-jung graciously offering to take the kids, and a wait staff swiftly handed Aiba a glass of champagne, much to his surprise.

“To Nino and Aiba-kun,” said Sho cheerfully, and he was echoed by Jun and Ohno.

“Congratulations, you guys,” said Jun, and he was blinking back tears as his eyes met Nino’s.

“You found your someone to love,” said Sho, nudging Nino.

“Yeah, and he is _so_ worth it.”

Aiba didn’t really get what they were saying, but it made him smile anyway. Ohno caught his eye, and he tipped his glass towards Aiba, beaming.

Aiba clinked his glass with Ohno’s, and as he heard Ohno congratulate him, he choked up. Ohno hadn’t been physically with him for fifteen years, what with him pursuing his career in New York, but he’d always been around for Aiba in his own special way, coming through for Aiba when it mattered most.

“I love you guys,” Aiba blubbered, wiping his eyes. “Thanks for making this wedding awesome.”

“We’ve helped you with the easy part; the rest of the marriage we'll leave to you,” said Jun, grinning.

And just like that, the night ended. Jun packed his clan into their car—they were staying in Yamanashi until the following afternoon, a Sunday, to spend time with family—while Sho and Ohno gathered up all the random things that hadn’t been able to go with the parents, telling Aiba and Nino they’d be driving their car out to the front porch to wait for them.

Aiba and Nino finally had a moment alone when they retired to the waiting room to change out of their tuxedos. Aiba didn’t waste any time; he took Nino by the shoulders, pushed him against the wall, and kissed him.

Nino let out a squeak of surprise before melting into the kiss, chuckling when Aiba broke away.

“Was that for the song?” asked Nino, eyes bright.

“And more,” said Aiba softly.

Nino’s lips twitched. “What do you know—not cheesy at all.”

Aiba laughed. “I learn from the best.”

Nino looked up at Aiba for a beat, then cupped his cheek, expression shifting.

“Thank you, Player Two,” whispered Nino.

Aiba smiled, taking Nino’s hand to brush his thumb against his ring.

“All levelled up,” he said, meeting Nino’s eyes, and they bumped their foreheads together, laughing.

**Author's Note:**

> I _had_ to get all the Aimiya out of my system. Now for Matsumiya!


End file.
